December 3, 2016. That is the day I broke my leg. At first (and for quite sometime, actually) I believed it was a "just" a broken leg and I'd be back to my plans for the summer with only a slight delay. Maybe it was a good thing I had no idea what I was in for.
As far as pilon fractures go, mine was far from the worst. Also not the best I've seen, but on the better end of them none the less. Sunday marked my one year anniversary since I broke my leg. At this point, other than a dissolvable stitch that's not quite dissolved yet, everything seems to be healing well now that the metal is out. I'm able to return to the gym (as long as I won't be on my feet all day - I found out the hard way that's still a limitation) and I'm able to start some serious rehabilitation. Things are progressing, and I'm hopeful that my recovery will be a good one, although I am doubtful that I will ever return to my previous normal - but as of right now, it seems the "new normal" will at least be one I can live with.
I'm just hoping I can wear those amazing heels I bought for last year's banquet and never got to wear. Not sure that will happen though :(
The break-versary was a mixed bag of emotions for me. On the one hand, I'm happy that things seem to be moving in a positive direction, the infection doesn't seem to be remanifesting, and my ROM and strength are slowly but steadily improving. On the other hand, it's been a VERY long year, and there is at least another year of rehabilitation before I can safely assume that's all I can accomplish. Which means a lot of hard work, plenty of frustrations (I'm sure), and a willingness to keep going even when I just really don't want to.
Add in the stress over the past year. Sure, I'm coming out the other side, but to be honest, I don't think I've really come to terms with the amount of stress this ended up costing me. Some friendships were strengthened, some weakened. Some people I developed a greater respect for, some I lost respect for. Much of the year, I felt very, very alone. The struggle was mine, and mine alone, day in and day out. Add in the pressures, spoken and unspoken, self inflicted and not, in regards to my racing. It wasn't until the very end of the year that I finally cut myself some slack. There are some people who I don't think ever did cut me any slack. A few told me I was doing great just being out there. Many inferred that hopes were a lot higher than I was producing. And I was my own worst enemy in that regard.
I have gained a lot of sympathy for people in difficult situations. Some of their situations are a million times worse than mine, but this experience opened that side of me in ways that I'm not sure anything else could have. I don't wish it on anyone, and I'd hope people can stay in their "it could be worse, we're praying for you" bubbles, but I have come to realize that those words are just that - empty words that sometimes actually cause a lot of pain. I may not be the biggest volunteer out there, I'll admit that I'm still too busy chasing my dreams, but if I ever tell anyone "it could be worse" again, someone please slap me. That is the least helpful thing you can say to someone who's in a difficult situation.
So a full year has past. This is far from "just a bad memory" and I'm reminded of it constantly, whether it's the nagging ache, a twitching muscle, the twinge while taking every single step....but, I'm walking, working out, and riding, and 2018 is looking like a much better year overall. I learned some very valuable life (and racing) lessons this year, and I am taking those and moving forward.
I think there are some things about myself, in terms of determination and passion, and a stubborness to keep going no matter what that I believe were character changing for me. It still feels like it's not a full fledged realization yet, but I can tell something related to that grew this past year, and I'm sure it will only help propel me forward.
